Chapter 12

"Why what, McGee?" Gibbs asked, his expression revealing nothing.

"Why have you admitted to everyone but me that you messed up? That the way you treated me was wrong?"

"You think it was?"

Suddenly, somehow, it was as though their positions were reversed. Tim didn't feel like the subordinate. He felt like he had somehow risen above Gibbs. He wasn't afraid. He was frustrated and he wanted an explanation. ...and he felt as though he had the power to demand an explanation, even from Gibbs. He didn't know how it had happened or why, but, even though Gibbs had done nothing differently, Tim felt the change as if someone had shouted it into the air.

"You know it was, Boss! Why the runaround? Why are you acting as though you don't have clue what I'm talking about? Why?"

"You must have an idea why, McGee. What do you think?"

"No!" Tim said. "No, I'm not going to let you turn this around on me. This is about you! About you blaming me for what happened to Stan. Yeah, I screwed up. The difference between me and you, though, Boss, is that I admitted it. I admitted it to you, and to Stan and to Director Vance, to Tony and Ziva. You've admitted it...but not to me. ...and I'm the first one you should have admitted it to. Why didn't you?"

"The other things were more important."

"No!" Tim heard his voice bounce off the walls. "No, I don't care that you cleared things up with Vance for me. I don't care that you told Stan it wasn't my fault. What I care about is the fact that my status didn't matter to you. I could have been killed, Gibbs. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was tired enough that my ability to make rational decisions was affected. I wouldn't have tried to run at the guy if I had been granted enough sleep to think clearly. Doesn't that matter to you?"

Gibbs remained silent in his usual way.

"I need an answer, Gibbs. I need an answer because..." Tim steeled himself. "...because I can't work for someone who doesn't care about my welfare. Stan was right. For you, the ends justify the means. This time, Boss, did putting me at risk, making me feel like everything was my fault, did that justify what happened?"

They stared at each other, neither breaking the sudden silence. Tim would not back down this time. He'd had time to think, both about his actions and about Gibbs' decisions. This was something that had to be said, and it had to be done now. Tim didn't need it to be a public confrontation. It didn't need to be official. It just needed to happen.

"I'm sorry, McGee," Gibbs said softly.

Tim shook his head. "That's not enough, Boss. Not this time. I don't think that apologies are a sign of weakness like you do, but what I need to know is whether or not you think of me as an asset or as something expendable. ...because I'm not expendable and if you treat me like I am, I can't work for you. During this case, you acted as though Stan were the only important thing. I don't mind that because Stan was important. He was the focus of the case and we needed to find him, but the way you treated me made me worthless." Tim looked away for the first time. "I have enough trouble devaluing myself, Boss. I don't need you to do it, too."

Still, Gibbs didn't answer. Tim looked at him once more.

"Boss, if you can't give me an answer...if you can't be honest with me...that's the wrong way for a team to be structured. I can't think of you as perfect...but you can't think of me as something that can be discarded at will."

Nothing. Tim sighed and reached for the switch.

"The ball's in your court, Boss."

The elevator came back on and began to move.

...it didn't make it very far. Gibbs reached around Tim and flicked the switch again. The elevator came to a resigned stop.

"You're right, McGee."

Tim couldn't look at Gibbs this time. The tables had turned once more and Tim felt like the probie again. He stared straight ahead, afraid to hear what Gibbs had to say. That Gibbs, too, was staring straight ahead didn't make Tim feel any better.

"You're right. Stan's right. Tony and Ziva were right. I screwed up. I did blame you in the beginning, but only instinctively. I didn't afterward, but I let you think I did. I knew you would come to that conclusion and I let it happen. I told myself that you would work better if you were trying to make up for your mistake, if you thought you had something to prove. What I forgot, McGee, is that you always work as if you have something to prove. ...and what's more, I've never told you that you have nothing to prove." Gibbs sighed. "I know I'm not perfect and I'm glad you know it, too. ...but I have to admit that it's hard letting go of the image, even if it's only in the minds of others."

"Is that more important than me, as a member of your team?"

"No."

"Don't do that to me again, Boss."

"I won't."

"I can't go through something like that again. If I screw up, let me have it...but don't treat me like I'm dirt."

"I won't. I promise, McGee. What I did was wrong."

Gibbs reached out and turned on the elevator once more. They stood in silence and then, Tim smiled.

"Apology accepted."

He looked sideways and saw Gibbs, who was staring straight ahead...but with a small smile on his face as well. He remembered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Three months later...

"I thought you would have done this ages ago," Stan said, sitting perched on Tony's desk, staring at the plasma. "He looks nothing like me, you know." He bent his head to the side. "I'm better-looking."

The file made for the fake Stan Burley was sitting on the screen and Tim was getting ready to permanently delete it from the system, having returned to work full time just the week before. So far as had been ascertained, Dayley had been the mastermind behind the idea to kidnap Stan and replace him. The buyers who had been lined up to purchase the stolen data had been set up and arrested. It was the beginnings of what could have become a major leak of sensitive information. Petty Officer Wright had been exonerated on the basis of being under duress. He had been permitted to rejoin his crew, demoted but with the possibility of regaining his former rank.

"I thought you might like to see it for yourself," Tim said.

Tony guffawed as he came in and saw Stan squinting at his doppelganger.

"We never saw him until he was dead, Stan," Tony said. "It's not our fault they couldn't distinguish between the two of you."

"At least we found out," Tim said.

"Yeah, that's a definite plus, I have to agree," Stan said. "Well? Get rid of him, Tim. I'm ready to see my double disappear."

Tim pushed the appropriate keys and the file vanished.

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"No more crazy man wandering around pretending to be me?"

"Nope."

"Wonderful!" Stan stood up. "That means I can do my assignment on the Roosevelt without someone looking over my shoulder."

"The Roosevelt?" Tony asked in surprise.

"I have a reputation to maintain, Tony. Director Vance agrees that NCIS needs to clean up its image on that ship. People don't like me over there...and it wasn't even me!"

"Afraid of losing your popularity, Stan?" Gibbs asked as he strolled in.

"Yeah, I am," Stan said emphatically.

"Stan!" Abby shrieked. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Just briefly, Abbs," Stan said, allowing her to hug him.

"You're still too skinny," she said, all concern.

"I'm cleared for duty. It will help me get through the different parts of the ship more easily." Stan turned sideways and sucked in his non-existent gut. He was still overly gaunt, but infinitely improved from his initial skeletal appearance.

"Well, it is good to see you on your own two feet," Ziva said from her desk.

"It's good to be on my own two feet. I just hope I haven't lost my sea legs."

"You going to miss your ride, Stan?" Gibbs asked.

"Nope. I'll make it. I just wanted to make sure my records were in order...and I wanted to say thanks to all of you. Mushy or not, Boss, you all," Stan looked around the room...and paused momentarily on Tim, "did so much to get me out. It's something I can't repay."

"It's our job, Stan," Tony said, but he flushed with pleasure at the gratitude.

"I'm glad you did it so well. I'd better be off." He bowed with a flourish. "Just don't forget what I look like this time, all right?"

"Promise," Tim said, softly. "We won't forget." He smiled as he said it, but he was serious.

Stan nodded. "Good. Then, I know I have nothing to worry about."

He got on the elevator and saluted them all as the doors closed.

Tim stared at the doors for a just a moment and then typed in a quick search for Stan Burley. Instantly, Stan's file came up...on the plasma. He blushed and took it down.

"What are you doing, Probie?"

"Just checking," Tim said.

"It's there," Gibbs answered. "Don't worry, McGee. It's there."

"I know, Boss."

Tim ducked his head and smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Permission to come aboard, sir!" Stan called.

"Who would you be?"

"NCIS Special Agent Stan Burley! The original!" he said, grinning.

The skipper looked a bit wary, but he nodded. "Permission granted!"

Stan eagerly walked up the gangplank and put out his hand as he reached the captain.

"I'm Agent Burley. I hope you'll allow me to make up for the problems caused by my double."

The captain hesitated and then took Stan's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Do your job, Agent Burley, and you'll have nothing to make up for."

"That's my intention, skipper," Stan said seriously.

"Then, welcome aboard, Agent Burley. I look forward to working with you."

Stan smiled in anticipation.

FINIS!